Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
And though those veins were a sight to behold, nothing caught me more than his eyes. They stared right back at me with a confident glint.
I drew in a breath and left the store.
I swear, even when he wasn’t around, he was flirting with me.
ELEVEN
DEKE
“Well, I think that went pretty well.” Arnold pushed the side door of the building open and stepped outside with a triumphant sigh. The sun was beaming, even with the shadows of the buildings hovering above.
I stepped out, and the humidity was enough to make me sweat in a matter of seconds. My black Armani button-down was sticking to me like glue.
It was the start of summer in New York City, so the heat was expected, but I didn’t think it’d be this damn hot. We’d just had a meeting with a team from Nike to discuss a massive lifetime endorsement deal. I’d been endorsed by them before, but not for a lifetime.
When I was a kid, getting endorsements was one of my goals. The first was to get good enough at basketball and make it to the NBA. The next was to make sure I was a top player on my team. Then I’d go for the endorsements just to prove I was worth it to the world.
It all sounded pretty sweet . . . but all I could think now was how exhausting it was. When I was a rookie, getting endorsed was hella cool, but that was years ago. The sweetness of it all became bitter pretty damn fast. Still, I was fortunate. Not many people could say they were endorsed by Nike.
“You’re hot right now, Deke,” Arnold went on with a chuckle. “Everyone wants your face with their brand. Keep playing like you did last season, and you’ll be seeing more of it.”
I looked toward the oncoming traffic, where a sea of yellow cabs mixed with other vehicles whizzed by. The thing I liked about New York was that everyone minded their own business.
People walked right past me with their faces buried in their phones or hustled to get to their destination. A few would look back as the familiarity registered, but they never stopped.
“I’m sure that’ll be the last deal I take for a while,” I said. “These busy summers are wearing me out.”
Arnold wiped sweat from his forehead. “Yeah, I feel you, big guy.” I hated when he called me that. “But hey. Let’s not make any promises to ourselves right now. Someone might approach with an even bigger check—you know what I mean?” He let out an obnoxious laugh, and I tried not to roll my eyes as he whipped his phone out.
Don’t get me wrong, Arnold was a dope manager—I wouldn’t have gotten half the endorsements I had without him—but the dude could be annoying as fuck.
“I’ll let the driver know we’re ready. Oh—by the way, if you’re stressed about your schedule or anything, you’ve got a lucky break next weekend. Golden Oil reached out, said they’re rescheduling their rebranding party. Oh—car is right over here.”
“Wait, why are they rescheduling?” I asked, automatically thinking of Davina.
“The CEO—that Davina chick—decided to take a week off for mental health reasons. Apparently, her dead husband’s birthday is around the same date as the party was, and she changed her mind. Talk about a mood killer.” He chuckled. “I told them it was no big deal and that we could discuss a date that worked for you later.”
Arnold continued his trek to the car, but I stopped in my tracks, digesting all the words that came out of his mouth for once.
Davina’s husband was dead? How the hell didn’t I know this? I mean, with that ring of hers, I figured . . .
Wait. At the dinner, when I tapped her ring and she tensed up, she wanted nothing to do with me after that. It was like she couldn’t get out of the restaurant fast enough. And that look in her eyes . . . damn.
I was right. She wasn’t happy, not because her husband was a piece of shit or they had a long-distance thing going but because he was dead.
Suddenly it all made sense—the spinal-cancer charity she was donating to, the way she kept her distance at the photo shoot. The slight standoffishness.
“Hey, Deke!” Arnold called. I peered up, and he was frowning at me from the open door of the SUV. “You comin’ or what?”
I shuffled forward, but something about that news wasn’t sitting right with me. I don’t know why I cared, but it was bugging me now, knowing she was grieving a loss.
Grief is a whole other pain, one I’m very familiar with, yet there she was, smiling and going to dinner with me like her life hadn’t been forever altered.
I climbed into the SUV, and when the chauffeur closed the back door behind me, I asked my manager, “Do you have her email address?”